In its sweriving limbs a scent,
A scent telling of distruction on the way.
Clouds roll in, with in seething,
Ill wind blowing stronger,
With intent to masacure even the tallest tree,
Dusk disappears as incrotching clouds,
Glutten themselves on the sky,
Light vanishes, changing direction of brith,
A sense of terror arrises as the horixon fades.
Retrobution surges in the pale green sky,
Vangances on man, whose invaded,
And it sister earth, passively inactive below.